Appetite for Apathy

My appetite for apathy

is plain for all to see

I'm like the Bodhisattva

sitting under his Bodhi Tree

The DWP think I'm just lazy

The mental health team know I'm crazy

Girls and women think me hazy

I'm just fine, "call me Daisy"

I've been sat here for three years

the cat on my lap called Brexit

just purrs and purrs and purrs

it's covered in WTO agreements and furs 

I'm watching rallies for Leave

and rallies for Remain

but because we're British old chum

no civil unrest, never the twain. 

During 'Mindfulness' we're taught not to swear

but I'm fucking Welsh so I don't fucking care

my mind refuses to settle, anarchy up in my tree

deep breathing, "It's not bloody working, I told you see"

Chaos is the name of the game

World Wars and Blood Letting, let's have more of the same

You can go on all your marches and shout

"Not in my name"

You can give it all peace and love

and caress that soft white dove

but you and I know

it will either be Johnson, Mogg or Gove.

It is then that I must cease my appetite for apathy

I must grab my staff and my bow

I will join the Welsh Guerrilla Fighters

and sow and sow and sow

The seeds of Welsh Independence have been planted deep

This Brexit malarkey has kick started mission creep

We wont put up with Eton fops with Beatles mop tops

We want the cream from the table no longer the sops

So the next time you see me sitting, staring out to sea

pat me on my head and give me a treat

and I'll show you my big fat feet 

tattooed on the heels 'Fe Godwn ni eto'